


You Are My Compass

by SaxuallyActive



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: AU, Bandie!Verse, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Marching Band, Music, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxuallyActive/pseuds/SaxuallyActive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny Briere, color guard captain, is starting his junior year of band, with band camp, of course! Along the way, he has to deal with some annoying freshmen, but it doesn't stop him from making his season fantastic with friends like Jaromir Jagr, Wayne Simmonds, and Chris Pronger. Not to mention Mr. Laviolette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I'm not religious, so if I mess up something I'm very sorry!

               _For Allison.  
_

_I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul. -Pslam 31:7_

 

               It was a hot July day, around six in the afternoon at the most musically inclined high school in Philadelphia. The East Philadelphia High Marching Eagles were getting ready to leave for band camp, a summer tradition dating back to the sixties. They ventured out to a camp in the middle of nowhere, far away from the bustle of Philly every summer since, and this year was no exception.

                Everyone had their bags and instruments, and for Junior Danny Briere, he had his bag and his colour guard bag. He was excited because this was finally his year of being colour guard captain. He was beyond excited for his solo that year. His director told him that this would finally be his year to shine. He strolled through the crowd of crying freshman parents, his head held high, his Raybans resting on the bridge of his nose, and his ear buds blaring Paramore music. He was one of the most respected members of the Marching Eagles Band—he was on track to march with some incredible Drum Corps the next summer, to the likes of The Cavaliers, The Bluecoats, and Phantom Regiment.

                As he strolled through the crowd, something caught his toe, and he was sent face first to the pavement. He heard his guard bag topple from his shoulder and fall to the ground with a loud crack.

                “Oh my god, I’m sorry.” He heard a soft voice squeak out. Danny pushed himself up from the concrete and ripped out his ear buds.

                “My equipment better be safe, or I might be pissed.” Danny stood up and dusted off some dust from his Drum Corp International shirt and light blue plaid shorts. Danny’s knee was scraped just enough to draw blood, but nothing more. Danny sighed, and lay his eyes upon a freshman who was a little bit taller than him with freeform ginger curls that fell into his face. Danny glared at the kid, and bent over to check his equipment.

                “I’m really really sorry, honestly. I didn’t see you there.”

                “Well, my things are fine, but since I’ve fallen for you, what’s your name?” Danny asked patiently and he lifted his glasses from his nose into his shaggy black hair.

                “Claude. Uh…Claude Giroux.” The boy stammered out as his cheeks became red. His hazel eyes became locked into a staring contest with the ground.

                “Danny Briere, colour guard captain.” Danny held out his hand and Claude gripped it tenderly. The kid had a straight-angled nose and tiny lips, and he still possessed his eighth grade fat. This was enough to make Danny smile slightly. “What do you play, Claude?”

                “Trumpet. I should be put on first part this year, Mr. Laviolette likes the way I play.”

                “Good, we need more of that.” Danny gave a half-assed salute to the kid, and wandered off. “See you around, Claude.”

                As Danny walked off, Claude had given Danny a weak wave.

                Danny moved to the front of the check-in line and nudged his friend, Jaromir, who was drumming on the top of his suitcase.

                “Jags, how’ve you been?”

                “Hey, Danny! Damn, it’s been all summer!” Jaromir exclaimed, looking up Danny. Jaromir was a senior that year, and was trying to grow out whatever facial hair his chin could conjure, which was only a spot of hair here or there. Jaromir had his dark hair cut short, with the front of it spiked up with douchebag hair gel.

                “Mr. L put me on tenors, Danny. It’s great.”

                “That’s the fifth time you’ve told me, Jaromir.”

                “Oh. It is?”

                “Yea, Jags. It is.”

                “Oopsies.” Jaromir shrugged and went back to practicing sweeps across his bag. Danny turned his head to the right and saw his good friend Wayne with his arm around his girlfriend and his lips in her ear.

                “Hey, Wayne!”

                “Danny boy! Lookin’ good man!” Wayne said, moving away from his girlfriend to Danny, enveloping him in a bro-hug. “This summer has been too long, I haven’t seen you at all! Where do you work now?”

                “Hammond’s Ice Cream. It’s great, you should visit me sometime!”

                “I’ll have to!” Wayne said, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. He then spoke softly to Danny. “Did you hear that Ashleigh got dumped?”

                “No way. He didn’t, did he?”

                “He cheated on her with Megan from the cheer squad. It’s crazy shit, dude.” Wayne lifted his head towards the band room. “Check-ins are starting, see you around!”

                “Yeah, thanks!” Danny dragged his bag to a random point in the line, a grin smeared across his face. Danny had been waiting for Ashleigh Stark to get dumped by her asshole boyfriend since freshman year. Danny had a crush on Ashleigh since she joined band freshman year, when she had graduated her Catholic School. Danny smiled at the thought of comforting Ashleigh under the stars at band camp.

                Once check-ins were complete, parents hugged their kids, and Danny wheeled his things to the luggage bus, like he did for the past two years. A band staff member took Danny’s suitcase from him and put it into a bus seat. Danny turned away from the man, but he heard himself being called after.

                “Want me to put your other bag on the bus?”

                Danny laughed. “No way. Not my flag and rifle.” Danny strutted off to another bus and boarded, finding a seat in the middle for him and his equipment. He put in his ear buds again and started jammin’ away.

                Danny watched everyone board the busses. This year was going to be great—he could feel it in his bones.

                The crowd beside the busses dissipated and Danny felt a tap on his shoulder. He pulled out an ear bud and turned his head to see a tall gawky freshman with a wide jaw, high cheekbones, and blue eyes staring at him.

                “There’s…nowhere else to sit…can I sit with you?” The kid asked.

                “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Danny replied, almost groaning. “What’s your name, kid?”

                “Tye McGinn. Uh, your’s?”

                “Danny Briere.”

                “Oh, I heard someone talking about you. You’re the colour guard guy, right?”

                “Yeah, I’m the captain.”

                “…so do you play an instrument?”

                Danny rolled his eyes and put in his other ear bud, tuning out the kid’s talking. Danny pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, his arms wrapped around his equipment bag. The busses rolled out of the high school, all the parents waving to their kids. This was the hardest part.

                Once they got onto the interstate, Danny dumped his bag into the corner of the seat and popped his head up to evaluate the bus. It was mostly kids from his class, but a lot of freshman plagued the bus. He looked to the front of the bus and found Jaromir, who was leaning over the back of a seat, hitting on some girl. He caught the stare of Chris Pronger, the drum major, jabbing Jaromir’s back with a pencil, who paused his harassment of Jaromir to wave at Danny.

                Danny, however, felt a strange sensation in his head, and instantly turned his head to the back of the bus. It was that ginger boy—he was staring at him. The kid put his head down and pretended to play with his cracked iPhone, which was obvious, since the screen wasn’t lit up. What was that kid’s name? _Chad? Charlie? Clark? Oh, shit, Claude, right? With some French ass last name._ Danny giggled to himself at the irony.

                He felt someone tap his shoulder, and found a pudgy-looking Mexican looking kid looking at him.

                “What?”

                “Uh, I was told to switch with you.”

                “Hey, Zac.” Tye said to the Mexican kid.

                “Thank the lord.” Danny muttered, grabbing his bad and squeezing out of the seat to the front, where his friends sat. The center snare senior, Max Talbot, was tapping the seat he sat in, and looking at Danny sexually. Danny laughed and sat, not in the open seat area, but in Max’s lap.

                “ _Oui oui, Briere. Donnez-moi le.”_ Max tickled Danny’s sides until Danny fell into the empty seat space, giggling.

                “You two are girls, I swear.” Jaromir said loudly.

                “At least we’re not a bunch of faggots, right?” Danny laughed.

                “You two could almost be. Jesus Christ.” Chris replied.

                “Dude, is Kimmo on the other bus?” Danny asked.

                “Sadly,” Danny heard Ilya Bryzgalov, the funniest sophomore Danny ever met, pipe up from the seat behind him. “Holy shit, he would’ve been hilarious.”

                The group of friends continued talking the entire way to camp, which felt like seconds away, but it took almost two hours to get there. When the busses pulled into the long driveway of camp, all the band kids cheered, like every year before then. Everyone was beyond excited once the busses stopped in front of the main hall of the camp. The band flooded out to in front of the deck of the mess hall, and Mr. Laviolette made his way up to the deck, a paper in hand.

                “Hello, Marching Eagles!”

                Everyone cheered for their band director, and he gazed down to his paper.

                “Alright, time for cabin assignments. Front cabin for girls is up that hill, back cabin for girls is that way, and the cabins closest to the mess hall are for boys. The left and right ones.”

                No one ever chose their cabin assignments, Mr. Laviolette randomly put everyone in different cabins. It was a sort of tradition for some reason.

                “Ladies first…front cabin—Adams, Taylor…”

                Danny pulled his Raybans down to his face and tuned out the girl’s roster. His eyes scanned the people around him, searching for Ashleigh, and only found freshman girls surrounding him. Hell.

                “Boys next, left cabin. Akeson, Jason. Briere, Daniel. Bryz. Coburn, Brayden. Couturier, Sean. Foster, Kurtis. Gagne, Simon. Uh…Giroux, Claude.”

                Danny felt his cheeks go hot. The freshman? Danny groaned softly. The kid was such a dork—a creepy little dork. Danny sighed heavily and tuned out the rest of the list. He didn’t need to know who else would be torturing him for the rest of the week.

                Mr. Laviolette dismissed everyone to their cabins for the night. The Sunday night was usually “bonding night” for the band members, where everyone would sit around and get to know their peers. Danny dragged his bag to the left cabin, and was one of the first people there.

                Danny threw his equipment onto a bunk and began to unpack his bedding. Like a little monkey, he hopped onto the top bunk and maneuvered his sheet onto his mattress. He carefully set his blankets and pillows on his bed, and hopped down in victory.

                “Uh…do you have a bunk buddy?”

                Danny turned around to see the ginger kid standing behind him.

                “No. I mean, yes! I…no, I don’t, Charlie.”

                “It’s Claude.”

                “Okay, fine. Yeah, be my bunk buddy.” Danny carefully organized his things and stepped aside, letting Claude set his bed. Danny looked over at Jaromir and Chris, who were quietly laughing at Danny’s misfortune. Danny marched over to his friends, his temper raging.

                “You sent that faggot over to me, didn’t you?” Danny snarled.

                “He obviously wants you, why not give him a chance?” Jaromir said softly, winking at Danny. Chris grinned from ear-to-ear, barely able to stay quiet.

                “I’m not a fucking faggot. Just because I spin doesn’t mean I like dick. Jesus Christ…” Danny put his hands on his hips and paced in a tight circle.

                “Awh, but come on, Danny.” Chris said softly. “Maybe after tonight you might enjoy him a bit more.

                “Whatever.” Danny said as he walked outside, making sure to grab his rifle. Danny stepped into the warm air and felt the hair on his arms stand up. He put the butt of his rifle in his right hand and his left hand on the nose. The relationship between him and his rifle was intimate—Danny always took care of it, always made sure the tape was in perfect condition. Danny tossed his rifle up and watched it spin. 1…2…3…4…5…6… and the familiar snap of tape to bare palms rang out in the air, and Danny exhaled. The chatter behind him reminded him that in that moment, he wasn’t alone. But he was as alone as he could get. Danny fell to his knees, the butt of his rifle on the ground. Danny folded his hands and placed his face on the nose of his rifle.

                _O Father, let you bless me this week through the success of my band and through the success of my own spirit. Thank you for all you do, and all you have done. You are a glorious Father and I will never stop counting the abundance of blessings you give me._

_Amen._

                Danny stood up, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled the dirty cross he always wore from under his shirt. He raised the dull metal to his lips and kissed it gently, as though the cross was as fragile as glass. 

                “Danny, we’re heading up to the main hall for the full band meeting. You wanna tag along?” He heard Jaromir call out.

                “Yeah, give me a second.” Danny replied.

                Danny stared up at the sky and smiled brightly, and ran inside to place his rifle onto his bunk, before running out of the cabin and after his brothers.

                They were the first ones in the hall, and they messed around for twenty minutes or so until the rest of the band showed up.

                Everyone was buzzing about the show that year. It was called “Beatles: Love”, and featured Drive My Car, Eleanor Rigby, All You Need Is Love, and Hey Jude/Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Danny was promised a solo in Hey Jude, and was beyond excited by the thought. He was shaking, waiting for the drill chart of his life.

                Mr. Laviolette addressed his band about the basic rules of band camp (no sex, no drugs, no alcohol, don’t flush dumb things down the toilet) and gave out the section leader booklets, which included some important band council meetings, an overview of band leadership, and the all-mighty check off sheet. Soon, he gave out the drill charts, and ratted off everyone’s dot number.

                _“G1, Danny B.”_

                He smiled like a kid in a candy store. This year was about to be absolutely perfect.

                Danny could barely contain himself when he headed back to the cabin. Instead of joining in a cruel game of “truth or truth”, Danny sat on his bunk, studying his drill chart, humming the show in his head, already making up work.

                His solo happened in the song, Hey Jude, during the mellophone solo by Max Talbot. The entire trumpet section would be in a huge grid, and everyone would clear away to leave Danny and a trumpet in the middle. Danny and _Ashleigh_ , he hoped. He imagined throwing a twenty million on his rifle, bending Ashleigh over, and kissing her as her helmet toppled to the ground.

                _Ah._ Danny breathed. He was so excited.

                Danny collapsed back onto his bunk, landing on his rifle. He grabbed his rifle, and cuddled up with it, tucking it beside his drill chart as he began to dream.


	2. Help!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one of band camp is to die for.

                Danny woke up when Jaromir gently tapped his nose.

                “Shower time.” Jaromir whispered to Danny. Danny stretched out and wiped the crusty crap from his eyes. He carefully laid his rifle down in his bed and couldn’t find his drill chart. After extensive searching, he found that it had fallen to the floor overnight.

                Danny hopped from his bed and dropped his clothes to the floor. He bent down and unzipped his bag, grabbing his towel and shower items. He absent-mindedly combed his hand through his hair, almost feeling the grease build up between his fingers. He was searching for his razor, but decided in that moment not to shave until the show was completely learned.

                Danny trudged into the dark bathroom, moaning softly when he couldn’t see a damn thing. He flipped on the light and found Jaromir, Chris, and Max walking around, half naked, in the dark.

                “Turn the light off!” Chris groaned, swatting at the air.

                “Too damn bad. Rise and shine, sweethearts.” Danny sang, blowing kisses into the air as he strutted to shower. He flipped the dial in the shower and whistled some tune he had stuck in his head. Danny lathered up Old Spice on his lightly tanned skin, letting the warm water dribble down his arms and off his fingertips.

                After his shower, Danny walked out into the cabin in nothing but a towel, and dug around in his suitcase for the clothes of the day. Monday was “Superhero Day”, and Danny packed his favourite black-on-yellow Batman shirt and a pair of black (nearly booty) shorts. He pulled on his clothes and wandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

                When he entered the bathroom, Danny found his bunk buddy, Claude, struggling to put in his contacts. Danny watched as Claude missed, chickened out, or got an eyelash in his contact. Danny sighed, and walked towards the kid, hoping to offer help.

                “Need help?”

                “If…uh…you don’t mind.” Claude whispered. Danny bent down to wash his hands, and then stood up straight to receive a contact from Claude.

                “Hold still.” Danny commanded to Claude. Danny’s hands were shaking as he pushed Claude’s eyelids open, and he carefully dropped the contact onto Claude’s eye. Danny repeated the same action with Claude’s other eye, and stepped back after he had completed the task.

                Claude blinked repeatedly, making sure his contacts adjusted to his eyes.

                “Thanks. I’m sorry, I used to wear glasses, but Mr. Laviolette wanted me to wear contacts for marching season.” Claude packed up his contact solution and case, still talking to Danny. “I’m getting Lasik after the season’s over.”

                “Well, that’s good.” Danny muttered. Danny looked Claude over, and found that Claude was wearing a Robin shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts. Danny sighed, and walked out of the bathroom without another word to Claude. Danny grabbed his equipment and drill chart and waited for Jaromir and Chris to finish getting ready. The three walked to the main hall in a daze, their tennis shoes slipping on the wet grass.

                The sun was barely peeking over the trees that morning. It was around seven, and it was evident that many had stayed up too late the night before. Many people looked like they had just left on clothes from the night before and walked to breakfast.

                Everyone gathered outside the main hall until Mr. Laviolette magically opened the door to the hall from the inside. Everyone flooded into the hall, and he took attendance by counting up all 139 members of the band.

                Danny sat silently between Jaromir and Chris, and Max trudged in and nearly fell onto the bench across from them.

                “Rough night?” Chris said softly.

                Right on beat, Max let his face smack into the wooden table. Simon Gagne and Mike Knuble joined Max on the other side of the table, and a random senior girl sat beside Simon and put her head on his shoulder lazily.

                Danny searched around the hall for Ashleigh. God, where was she? She was never late for anything. But that’s when she walked in with half of the junior class girls. Ashleigh was Cat Woman. She was wearing a tight black shirt with the Cat Woman logo stretched across her breast, yellow booty shorts, and black, fuzzy cat ears that were carefully placed into her blonde hair.

                Danny took the edge of his Batman shirt and buried it into his crotch, looking over at his peers for any sort of help.

                “Damn, Danny, you look like you just saw a—“ Jaromir started. But Danny gestured with his head towards Ashleigh, and Jaromir turned his head to her. Jaromir slowly turned his head back to Danny, and slowly shook his head. “Good luck.”

                Danny groaned softly as Ashleigh took a spot across the cafeteria.

                “Alright, that’s everyone.” Mr. L announced. “If you look at the board in the main hall lobby, I’ve written up the schedule for today. Morning rehearsal starts at eight thirty. Don’t be late. Bring your charts and the name tag given to you at check-ins. Guard, you’ll need your swing flags for pre-game, and bring your six foot flag for the ‘ell of it. Let’s go Eagles!”

                With that, everyone stood to get the food of the morning—waffles and cereal, apples and oranges.

                Danny kept tugging his shirt down over his crotch whilst reciting every World Class Drum Corp in his head. And he was thinking about waffles.

                After breakfast, Danny nearly ran up to the field for rehearsal, even though he was almost a half hour early. He was the only one on the field—he had his world to himself. So he dropped his equipment and started stretching. He plopped down into the dew-covered grass and spread his legs and pressed his face down to the grass, his arms reaching forward. He let out careful, measured breaths with every rep he did.

                Danny stretched out his legs and worked on stretching out his arms. By that time, most of the drum line had showed up, and one solitary guard member appeared. What was his name? Danny squinted as he stretched his biceps. Sean _Something-Or-Other._ Hey, that works.

                “You’re Sean, right?” Danny said as he approached the Freshman.

                “Yeah.” The kid said, clutching onto his two flags.

                “Wanna do pregame with me real quick?”

                “S-Sure.” Sean replied, putting his six foot pole down, and unravelling the silk on his swing flag. For some odd reason, Danny _loved_ the swing flag silk. It was long and ended in a tear-drop like pointe at the end. It was half matte orange, and half glittery black. It looked so cool when it was spun that Danny couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

                The two guys found a spot on the edge of the field, and Danny made sure _(absolutely sure)_ that Sean was standing at attention right. Right heel in your left arch, silk stripped down to your right palm, left hand on your hip, and chin up, smiles _on_.

                “Ready?”

                “Yeah.”

                Danny dutted out the roll-off for the fight song, and the two spun out the fight song perfectly. After the fight song, Danny made sure Sean did the National Anthem and Alma Mater attentions right, and they moved on to _Grande March,_ their school’s traditional march.

                The work for Grande March was difficult, and Danny didn’t expect Sean to spin it right, but he did. Once Sean finished the work, he was left with a grin that went from ear-to-ear.

                “You _are_ a Freshman, right?”

                Sean let out a squeaky giggle. “Yeah, yeah. I am.”

                At that point, everyone was slowly showing up, and the senior class had arrived with the amplifier, which had Jaromir’s iPod hooked up to it. It was blasting some clean version of “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore, which made the drum line freak out and start playing along to it, featuring the incredible bass line just improvising 16th note runs.

                Danny had to join in, and he grabbed Sean’s hand and took him over to the drum line, and started dancing on him. A bunch of other members joined in, starting a huge group of half-asleep band nerds dancing all over each other.

                Danny broke out of the group to find Jaromir, who started shouting lyrics in Danny’s face, to which Danny started singing the hook to Jaromir. Danny felt someone grab his hips, who was Chris, and he was picked up, dragged over to the drum major podium, and was helped up onto the podium. Danny looked at Chris, who shouted, “Fucking dance, dude!” so Danny put his hands above his head and started rolling his hips into the hair. He still swears that, to this day, he heard a horde of freshman girls faint.

                Danny loved the attention. He loved being the cute, nearly legal junior with hips that moved like butter. He loved the attention from the girls, the sex he almost got.

                Danny spotted Ashleigh near the podium, and extended a hand to her.

                “C’mon!” He screamed through the music. Ashleigh tucked a bit of hair behind her ears as she shook her head. Danny repeated himself before he took a step towards her, and pulled her up the podium. Ashleigh reluctantly joined with a hefty sigh, and Danny pulled her close, singing the hook to her as they danced, not on each other, but together.

                Simon Gagne pulled out his trumpet and began to wail during the brass interlude, and after the interlude, the entire band began to jump and sing. “Nah nah nah-nah nah nah nah nah!”

                Over everyone, Chris Pronger screamed, “Aaaa-eeee-aaaa-aaaay!”

                _“And all my people say!”_

                Danny pressed his shoulders to Ashleigh’s shoulders and the two sang the rest of the song to each other. The song ended and everyone cheered. But Danny had other plans.

                Behind the drum major podium was the director’s podium, which was taller than the drum major podium by a couple feet. Danny climbed to the top of the podium, and stood above everyone and began to sing:

                “Can we go back? This is the moment—“

               And, suddenly, the entire band began to sing.

_“—tonight is the night, we’ll fight till it’s over, so we put our hands up like the ceiling can’t hold us, like the ceiling can’t hold us!”_

               Danny raised his fist up and everyone cheered. He climbed down the director’s podium, jumped down half way down the ladder, and strutted over to his equipment as Mr. L and the color guard instructor, Terry Murray, arrived on the staff golf cart. Danny caught Mr. L’s gaze, and Mr. L just shook his head. Danny couldn’t wipe the shit grin off of his face.

               Everyone circled up and the seniors led the obnoxious, traditional stretches. After wards, Mr. L had the winds warm-up, but the drum line skipped their warm-ups because of the random John Hughes moment. Terry had the guard run through the fight song routine before sending them to set up for the pregame drill.

               Mr. L, like the perfectionist he was, had his band run through pregame until every diagonal was crisp, every hit was unison, and every snap to attention was perfect.

               “Alright, I think that’s good for now.” Mr. L announced from his podium. “Grab a drink of water and your drill charts.”

               Danny was nearly shaking with anticipation. He sprinted to his equipment, downed half a bottle of water, and grabbed his chart.

               “Jeeze, Danny, don’t choke on your water.” His friend, Kimmo Timonen said as he walked past, gently nudging Danny.

               “Sorry. Just can’t contain all this hype, man!” Danny flipped his book open to set one, and examined the set carefully.

               The first set looked like two giant circles that overlapped each other, with the drum line in the middle overlapping part. The drum line had a sick intro into “Drive My Car”, which required them to start off front field. Danny moved his finger across the page, and found his dot near the back field, in the far circle. Out of curiosity, Danny flipped to the next page, and found that the band morphed into a series of intricate curls around the field. Danny could only hope it would look as good as it did on paper. He looked at the directions on the drill. At the opening fanfare, there was a hold for sixteen counts. Danny bit his lip, letting his mind wander to what amazing drill Terry would come up with.

               The band wandered out to the field, making sure to grab a handful of colored poker chips. These chips would be placed on the field where people’s dots were. One would move from page-to-page, and would hit each poker chip, and would eventually lift the poker chips from the field, signifying another page learned.

               The band worked until about ten in the morning, when they took a Popsicle break, but they immediately jumped back into the routine of learning drill. The band learned about six pages out of the forty-seven they had before them.

               At lunch, everyone was tired as hell. Danny could barely keep his head up as he said grace to himself. Chris had jokingly fed Danny his mac ‘n cheese for a couple of minutes before Danny laughed so hard that he swore he shot cheese out of his nose.

               After lunch, everyone broke up into their respective sections. The flutes went there, the trumpets went here, the drum line went over there.

               Danny and his color guard waited patiently for Terry in the big recreational barn. Danny looked around at his group. Eighteen girls, two guys. Sean sat near the edge of the babbling group of girls, absent-mindedly twisting the silk of his flag in his hands.

               “Well, ladies,” Danny announced, “and Sean, let’s get in a little warm up. Terry’s bound to make you lot check off the fight song.”

               “But tell us, are you and Ashleigh a thing?” A girl, Sam, asked.

               “This isn’t the rumour mill, it’s sectionals.” Danny said, winking as he whipped out the silk on his swing flag in one suave move.

               Sectionals were pretty productive that day—they learned most of the work for the opener. Danny was fairly impressed by his guard; most of them were doing well. He was worried by two or three girls, but the rest, he was fine with.

               Near the end of sectionals, the guard’s time together slowly melted into the free time block, where band members could go sleep in their cabin, walk around camp, go swimming, or practice some more until dinner.

               Danny decided to let his muscle relax, and he walked back to his cabin to change into his swim shorts.

               The cabin was abuzz with a handful of campers talking about the day’s events. Chris and Jaromir were busy digging their swim trunks from their suitcases, Ilya and Jakub were sitting on the floor eating their weight in granola bars, and Maxime and Simon were having a mouthpiece cleaning session. Danny wandered over to his bunk, and found Claude belly-up in his bunk.

               “Tired already?”

               Claude rolled his head towards Danny, and Claude’s tight curls fell in the space between his glasses and his beautiful eyes. Danny smiled, and carefully took Claude’s glasses off, folding them onto Claude’s bedside cubby.

               “A little.” Claude said, smiling.

               “Well, get up. You gotta go swimming.” Danny said softly. “It’s like a band camp ritual.”

               “Fine.” Claude said, slowly getting out of his bunk to dig out his swim trunks from his bag. Danny smiled, and followed suit to grab his swim trunks. He walked to the bathroom and stripped down in a toilet stall, and threw on his swimming gear.

               Danny got sprayed down with sunscreen by Chris, and Chris sprayed down Claude, taking in the cruel enjoyment of watching Claude writhe at the cold sunscreen. Soon, a group of guys trudged down to the lake, as though they were from Baywatch, their aviators on, towels over their shoulders, stupid ass grins on their faces.

               The lake was a luxury for band members, but if anyone else were to take a glance at the goose-shit ridden beach, they would turn up their nose. The lake was decently sized, most-likely man made, with a skinny dock that extended slightly into the lake, where two flute players were laying out, giggling to themselves. There was a huge floating dock in the middle of the lake that was covered in short, abrasive carpet. If you survived a day without rug burn from that thing, you were considered a god amongst men.

               Danny dropped his towel and sandals in the grass by the beach and Claude dropped his things next to Danny’s.

               “We gotta play king of the dock, guys.” Mike Knuble, a senior trumpet player said loudly.

               “Can we still play that?” Chris asked aloud.

               “Maybe. I mean, nothing happened last year.” Jaromir replied as he took off sprinting for the dock. Chris watched Jaromir leap over the flute players, who cowered as Jaromir jumped off the dock and brought his knees to his chin, laughing hysterically.

               “We gotta see what happens.” Danny said as he strutted off to the dock, Claude tailing him.

               “I swear, Danny has a little admirer now.” Chris said softly to the group.

               “At least Claude isn’t a fuck up. He’s very talented, so that’s good.” Simon replied, watching as Danny shoved Claude into the lake.

               Danny swam over to the floating dock and put his arms on the dock, forcing himself up with his forearms. He turned around to watch Claude doggy paddle over to the dock, his curls disappearing every once in a while under the musty water.

               “Claude, are you sure you can swim out here?” Danny asked as he bent over, holding out a hand to Claude. He pulled Claude up, and Claude winced as the carpet scraped against his stomach.

               “Yeah, I’ll…I’ll be fine.” Claude flopped onto the dock, breathing heavily.

               “If you’re too fatigued, I can swim you back to shore,” Danny said, bending down to console his ginger friend. “It’s okay, really, Cl—“

               Suddenly, Danny found himself flying through the air, and his face slapped the surface of the water with a loud crack, and Danny felt the cool, squishy surface of the bottom of the lake. Danny pushed himself up the surface, and broke the surface of the lake with a loud gasp. But, Danny’s hair got stuck in his mouth, and he gagged. He combed his soppy hair back, shaking any excess water out.

               Danny looked up to the dock to find Jaromir laughing, and Claude slightly dumbfounded, staring at Danny.

               “You little shits.” Danny climbed back onto the dock, and Jaromir was _still_ laughing.

               “Your face is redder than Claude’s face when you flipped your hair back!” Jaromir choked out, clutching his stomach.

               “ _Fuck you, dude._ ” Danny Sparta kicked Jaromir off the dock, and Jaromir’s back slapped the surface of the water. Jaromir bobbed up above the surface, a shit grin spread evilly across his face. Danny felt two hands on his waist, and turned his head to find Chris lifting him up and literally _throwing_ him off of the dock. Danny smacked into the water once more, and bobbed up to find that World War III had broken out between the band camp boys.

               Chris and Jaromir celebrated with each other, hugging each other’s slick, wet bodies. That is, until Maxime sneaked up and grabbed Chris’ ankle, pulling him face first into the dock, and off into the water. Maxime jumped up onto the dock in a blissful celebration involving rolling his hips in Chris’ direction, but Jaromir smacked Maxime’s ass right off the dock.

               Danny’s face broke into a beautiful smile. This was the shit he lived for, shoving his friends off a piece of shit dock into a piece of shit lake. More and more people jumped onto the dock, shoving each other off. Danny began to swim to the dock and pulled himself up again, but he remained sitting. If you sat down, you weren’t fair game. It was a rule they had made last year so that someone wouldn’t be overly-fatigued and drown to death.

               Danny looked over his shoulder to find Claude at his side, looking scared as hell.

               “Is this all you do?” Claude asked loudly, over the chaos of splashing.

               "Hahaha, yeah, basically.” Danny breathed. Danny looked up at the kid. He was wrecked. God knows how late they made him stay up till.

               Claude went to speak to Danny once more, but he was thrown off the dock at a record distance, at least a good twenty feet from the dock.

               “Fuck, seriously guys?”

               “Maybe he should’ve sat.”

               “He’s a fucking freshman, he doesn’t know the fucking rules!” Danny said, standing in frustration.

               “Standing up for your fucking faggot again?”

               “Dude, shut up you fucking homophobe.”

               “Danny, stop being a bitch.”

               Danny found himself in the middle of a huge shoving match, full of screaming and curses. He heard the lifeguard blow his whistle, hoping to catch the attention of the feuding group. Danny was knocked around the group like a fucking ragdoll, and he felt the sites of bruises beginning to form.

               “Shit, guys. _Guys._ Seriously fucking stop, the kid is drowning!”

               Danny turned his head towards the place where Claude was launched to, and he pushed through the group to see a little ginger head bob above the surface slowly.

 _"Claude!”_ Danny screamed, diving at him, reaching his skinny body before the lifeguard did. Danny forced himself under the water and opened his eyes. Claude was already unconscious. _Oh my god._ Danny wrapped his arms around Claude’s waist and swam him towards the dock, hoisting him onto the dry dock. The lifeguard calmly shoved Danny away and began to breathe into Claude. Danny paced around the dock, biting into his hand, hoping he wouldn’t start crying like a bitch.

               He looked at Claude, and the lifeguard was bent over him, forcing air into his probably water-filled lungs.

               Danny took one look at the dock, which all watched Danny nervously. He saw Jaromir crouch down and put his face in his hands. Danny looked past the dock and saw Ashleigh swimming out of the lake with her friends by her side.

               Danny buried his face in his hands and turned away from the group.

_This is all my fault. This is all my fault. This is all my fault. This is all my fault._

_This is all my fault._


	3. A Hard Day's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High there.

He turned back to Claude and knelt down, running his left hand through Claude’s soaked hair. He carefully undid Claude’s curls, and his hair fell through his fingers like sand.

“Claude, I’m so fucking sorry…I’m so damn sorry…”

Claude wasn’t breathing. Danny scooted away from Claude and watched the lifeguard work hastily on the kid. Suddenly, water began to dribble from Claude’s lips. Danny felt his vision blur. He was too young to have killed someone. What would Claude’s parents say? Claude probably has two loving parents, a sister in elementary school that he carries around on his shoulders, a dog he lays out with in his yard on sunny days. Claude probably has it all.

The past two minutes have felt like an eternity for Danny. Staring down at this kid that he has somehow gotten responsibility for—waiting, watching for him to wake up, to spit out the water from his blue lips and laugh like an idiot. But Danny could only watch as more water came from his mouth until—

Claude rolled over and nearly puked up water. His eyelids flipped open and his beautiful eyes bulged out as he continued to cough. He gasped for air and gripped his chest. Danny’s only reaction was to gather Claude in his arms and grip him tightly.

“What the hell just happened?”

“You almost died, Claude. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Danny whispered, putting his face right into Claude’s hair.

“We need to call the paramedics.” The life guard warned, almost pulling Claude from Danny.

“I’m okay,” Claude said, shaking his head. “really, I’ll be fine. I’m sleepy. But I’m fine.”

“You could very easily die from extra water in your lungs.” The life guard said softly. “I just want to cover all of my bases.”

Danny looked out at the beach of Goose Shit Lake. Mr. Laviolette was standing, his mouth open, looking at the scene. Nearly the entire band was standing, watching Claude and Danny and the life guard.

“Let’s get him to one of the empty staff cabins.”

Danny didn’t hesitate at the words of the life guard. Danny put an arm around Claude and led him up the dock to the grass, where he dashed to grab their towels. Danny loosely swaddled Claude, and Claude simply replied with a weak smile.

Danny felt several stares on him. He looked behind him at the lake and noticed that everyone was standing in the shallow water, watching Danny lead Claude to the staff cabin. Danny looked forward again, and saw numerous band parents standing, their mouths either covered with their hands or their mouths wide open. Mr. Laviolette had closed his mouth into a straight, professional gaze.

By the time they got to the cabin, most of the band had cleared out to their cabins, per Mr. Laviolette and other band staff members. The life guard accompanied Danny and Claude, until he left to see if the paramedics had arrived.

Claude sat down on the bare bed, swaddled up in his towel. Danny sat across the room in a chair, wrapped in his own towel.

“So, what happened?” Claude asked, barely making an audible sound.

“You were launched off of the dock,” Danny began. “I got into a fight with some guys on the dock, until I looked over and saw you bobbing in the water. I got there before the life guard did, and I pulled you to the dock.”

“Did I like, die?”

“I don’t know. It felt like you did.”

“That’s beyond crazy.” Claude shook his head, causing tiny droplets of water to spray around the room. “I just remember talking to you, then waking up on the dock. My entire chest was on fire.”

“At least you almost drowned in fresh water. Salt water is nastier.” Danny said, pulling the towel around him tighter.

“Thank you, Danny.” Claude said, bowing his head slightly.

“I couldn’t leave you there. I convinced you to go out to the lake.”

“I also consented to swimming with you.” Claude lifted his head and smiled at Danny. Danny still remembers how Claude looked at him. It was such a warm smile, the kind where the edge of Claude’s lips tugged up a little, and his lips exposed his slightly crooked, white teeth. His eyelids just drooped slightly, probably because he was so fatigued, and his stupid hair fell into his face.

Danny stood up and walked over to Claude. Danny ruffle’s Claude’s hair, like a brother would to his younger sibling. Claude swatted Danny’s hand from his head, his smile spreading into a wide grin that released a blissful giggle. Claude, in swatting away Danny’s hand, found his fingers hooked into Danny’s fingers. Danny, almost disgusted, pulled his hand from Claude’s and tugged up on his towel dominantly, wandering over to the other side of the cabin.

The door to the cabin opened, and the lifeguard and two paramedics came in.

“I think you’ll have to leave for a bit.” The lifeguard said, motioning to Danny.

“It’s fine.” Danny looked to Claude. “Should I bring you clothes?”

“Yeah, good plan.” Claude replied, looking anxiously at the paramedics as he stripped off his towel.

Danny nearly ran out of the cabin, straightening his hair as he walked barefoot across camp. He was being stared at. So he made the best out of it, and pulled off his towel with a sly smile. He glanced to his right as he walked past the mess hall and met Ashleigh’s gaze. She smiled warmly to him, mouthing one word to him.

_“Hero.”_

Danny continued back to his cabin. He wasn’t sure what to make of the attention he was getting. On one hand, he loved it. On another, it made him uncomfortable.

Danny found Claude’s bag and dug through it, finding a pair of boxers, a pair of black shorts, and a Phillies shirt. Danny looked down at himself, and sighed. He figured that he should probably change, so he just changed into what he was wearing earlier that day. He grabbed his equipment and drill chart, leaving the cabin with Claude’s clothes and shoes.

He hastily made it back up to the cabin, and he saw the ambulance sitting in the driveway. Danny felt his heart sink, but realized that it was just the paramedics. Danny blushed a little. He felt so stupid sometimes.

He slowly approached the ambulance, and he studied the back doors, which were cracked open slightly. He squinted, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“…you should be fine. It sounds like you coughed up almost all of the water in your lungs. The amount left is little or none. It should dissipate over the next couple of days, but you will need to see a doctor for a brain scan and a full heart evaluation.”

“What about for the rest of the week?”

“You will be fine. From what the lifeguard said, you were probably so winded from being launched off the dock that you hit the water, and the water got into your lungs, and your body made you pass out. Probably from shock. But I would still recommend you getting an appointment next week. I’ll be calling your emergency contact to let them know what’s going on. Do you want them to come to camp?”

“No. I’m fine. Stop making a big deal. I’m fine.”

Danny didn’t realize how close he was to the ambulance door until the paramedic opened the door straight into Danny’s nose.

“ _Shit!_ ” Danny shouted, reeling backwards, holding his nose.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I brought Claude clothes.”

“Well, we’re done with him now. But if you want to change in the ambulance, that’s fine by us.” The paramedic gave Danny a _look_.

“What?” Danny questioned, furrowing his brow. The paramedic gestured to the ambulance. “Oh, no. No, I’m not a _faggot_.” Danny retorted, stepping onto the ambulance to give Claude his clothes. Danny walked out of the ambulance, fuming. How dare anyone assume such a thing as that.

Danny simply walked to the mess hall, ready for dinner. He checked his watch, and noticed that it was only four o’clock. He had an hour till dinner, so he set off for a shady spot to spin his rifle. As he tossed his almost empty bag into the grass, he found himself with a small audience, which was compromised of Jaromir, Wayne, and Chris.

Danny did some simple tosses and spins, to which his audience clapped and cheered.

“Danny Briere, I love you! Will I ever become a Cavalier like you?” Wayne whined, reaching for Danny.

“Only if you spin hard enough.” Danny winked at Wayne, and tossed his rifle up. Danny spun quickly, staring up at his rifle, silently counting each rotation. Six. The rifle smacked into Danny’s bare hands, the pain seeping into his palms.

Danny’s audience clapped and cheered. A smile spread across Danny’s face as he looked upon his peers. Danny loved performing, and he wished that he could do only that for the rest of his life.

“Do your hardest spin,” Chris chirped. “Prove that you’re truly worthy of being a captain.”

Danny paused for a moment. While Chris was one of his best friends, Danny was still intimidated by him. Danny glanced at his group. Wayne was playing with a handful of grass, Chris was staring him down, and Jaromir was playing with Danny’s guard bag.

Danny held the butt of his rifle in his right hand and the tip in his left. He moved the butt into a carve, and brought the butt up after the carve into a one-handed spin with his right hand that went behind his head. He finished the little spin by pointing extending his arm to the right, and he flipped the rifle back towards him, catching the tip in his left palm. He sucked in a deep breath, and flipped the rifle into the air. But instead of standing still to catch it, he dropped down and rolled to his left in a fluid motion, and when he brought his eyes up, he found the rifle in front of his face, and he caught it solidly.

“Damn, son.” Chris applauded.

“Are you a Cavie yet?” Wayne asked jokingly.

“I wish,” Danny said softly, settling into a comfy sitting position. “They’re insanely good.”

“Maybe the Cadets, too. They just won gold in Indy last week.” Jaromir suggested.

Danny shrugged. “Too much hype.”

“Are you kidding?” Chris said. “The Cavies just did _XtraordinarY_ and killed it with a third place title and you don’t want a corp with ‘too much hype’.”

“I like the Bluecoats to be honest.” Wayne spoke up, his eyes dashing around the group. “I was considering auditioning for them. Turns out I’m pretty good at baritone.”

“But it’s _Ohio_.” Jaromir began. “ _Ohio_ is _gross_.”

“You barely even spend time in your corp’s host town, since you tour so much.” Chris reminded, hugging his legs.

“I would still want to spend as little time in that state as humanly possible.” Jaromir adds, picking at Danny’s bag zipper. Danny plopped down onto the warm grass and cradled his rifle in his lap, watching Jaromir get lost in his thoughts. When Jaromir was in elementary school, he lived in Ohio, where he was picked on relentlessly for his poor English and thick accent. Since then, he has gotten better, and his accent is still present, but barely noticeable. He moved to Pittsburgh in fifth grade, but due to his dad’s job, he got to Philly in seventh grade. Since then, he and Chris have been inseparable.

“Well,” Chris began, “you lived in southern Ohio, right? Bluecoats are up in the north, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I never said I was looking at the Bluecoats.” Jaromir snapped. The entire group then dropped the subject. It was best not to piss Jaromir off, or (god forbid) get him upset.

“You got the time, Danny?” Wayne wondered.

Danny placed his rifle on the ground and spun his little rubber watch around. “It’s about quarter till, want to go get in line for the dining hall?”

The group all nodded in approval. Danny grabbed his bag from Jaromir and slid his rifle into the soft core of his equipment bag, and led everyone to the dining hall. They got their just in time, the director had opened the door and let everyone in. Danny began to walk into the hall, but he felt a tight grip on his arm, and was gently pulled aside. Danny looked up to find the heated gaze of Mr. Laviolette.

“Can we talk, Daniel?” He commanded, his eyes moving over Danny and his friends.

“Yeah,” Danny said, sweat forming on his brow. “Save me a spot, guys.” He finished, gesturing to his friends.

Mr. Laviolette moved from the entrance of the dining hall to behind the dining hall, under a small deck, Danny following him. Danny kept a safe distance from his director, and found his heart pounding when Mr. Laviolette spun around on the balls of his feet.

“I heard a nasty rumour that you were speaking ill to the paramedic. Is this true?” Mr. Laviolette’s face was a bit pink, and Danny felt his presence over whelming.

“I barely said anything to the paramedic, sir.” Danny felt his muscles stiffen; he couldn’t look at Mr. Laviolette.

“Did you say to the paramedic that you weren’t a _‘faggot’_ , Daniel?”

Danny felt the blood fall from his face. “Yes, sir.” Danny stared at his feet. What else was he supposed to say?

“Look up at me, Daniel.”

Danny lifted his head. He felt ashamed being under Mr. Laviolette like this.

“I should be congratulating you for saving Claude’s life, Daniel,” Mr. Laviolette consoled. “but instead, I stand before you to reprimand you. We are an accepting organisation, and I will not tolerate this behaviour. You may have whatever views you may have of homosexuality, but I will not let you impose them upon this band. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Daniel stumbled out.

“Now get in there for dinner. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

~~~

Danny ate in silence, something that no one was used to. He kept eyeing the room for Claude, but he couldn’t find him. So Danny just got into game mode for the night’s rehearsal, because the way Mr. Laviolette acted earlier, rehearsal was probably going to be rough.

After dinner, everyone moved up to the field and, somehow, Claude reappeared on the field, looking weak but ready for the rehearsal ahead. Chris had everyone work through pregame, then jump right into the first six pages of the show. Playing the music with the drill proved hard for many members, and Danny found himself watching his guard fall apart, forgetting the work they did earlier that day. Once the band hit their last set, they stood in place and finished the opener. Once the train wreck stopped marching, Chris flicked the guard off of the field with his wrist, and Danny eagerly jazz ran off the field. Chris did exactly what Danny hoped he would, and had the band circle up and play the opener as Danny and his guard worked through the work they learned, and when they reached the end of their work, Danny tacked on an extra eight counts that proved easy enough to learn for his guard, so they went with it. Terry would probably be mad at Danny, but so be it.

Once Mr. L showed up, the band learned an impressive seven pages of drill, leaving them with thirty four pages left to learn in four days, or seven rehearsals. But the way Mr. L looked at it, it was only three days, or six rehearsals.

So when Danny fell into bed that night, he found his arms and legs sizzling with a dull pain from working all day. He fell into a sleepy daze, his eyes blurring the ceiling above him. When Danny felt his leg being poked at, he was pulled from his daze to find Chris standing by his bed.

“Let’s get out of the cabin.” Chris whispered. Danny knew exactly what he meant by _“get out”._

Danny hopped down from his bunk and grabbed his hoodie. He walked out into the crisp, cool summer air, the moon shining down on him. He found himself with Wayne, Jaromir, Scott, Maxime, Simon, and Mike.

“Where’s Chris?” Danny asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Right behind you, kiddo.”

Danny turned around and found Chris and Claude behind him.

 _“Why did you bring a freshman?”_ Danny snapped.

“Because he’s cool, and he’s with us now, yeah?” Chris said sternly. Danny made no more disputes against Chris. What he said was alright with Danny.

The group of guys made it out to a spot in the woods, a place with a small clearing that had been used by members before them. It was a sort of tradition that no one ever caught on to.

A small group of ladies had already made it to the clearing, which consisted of Ashleigh and a couple of her friends. Danny swallowed hard. Ashleigh was wearing a tight tank top and a pair of shorts that barely covered her, not to mention the holes that riddled the fabric, making the shorts barely useful.

“You got it?” Ashleigh asked Chris.

“Yeah, I do.”

Chris dropped a small bag of weed onto a tree stump, and Ashleigh replied with a large water bottle. Danny felt a smile spread across his face—he was ready to relax for a while.

After a moment, everyone sat down in a circle around a dull fire, passing around a blunt that Chris had rolled. When the blunt reached Danny, he took a short draw off of it, and passed it to Claude, whose thigh was pressed tightly against Danny’s.

“I don’t think I should…uh…smoke.” Claude said awkwardly.

“It’s up to you.” Danny said after he blew five smoke circles into the air.

“Fuck it.” Claude said, drawing in a short breath of smoke. He released the smoke and coughed hysterically, causing the circle to laugh. Claude passed the blunt to Max, who asked if Claude was coughing up any more water. That was the only time Claude smoked that night.

Once the blunt was becoming short, Ashleigh passed around the water bottle, which turned out to be cheap vodka. Everyone talked about stupid nonsense, like most of them had been accustomed to doing.

Danny was in heaven. He finally felt at ease and cut loose from the already stumbling start that band camp had. The vodka burned him so well, and he kept a watching eye on Claude, who was obviously a virgin at nearly everything life had to offer.

“Let’s play truth or dare.” Ashleigh said, obviously a bit drunk. _Lightweight._

The group agreed. Chris volunteered to administer the truths or dares.

“Em, you start.” Ashleigh said, taking a draw from the dying blunt.

“Truth or dare.” Chris stated.

“Truth.” Em said. Em was sitting next to Danny. She was a junior clarinet player, who obviously didn’t own a shirt that covered her tits to save her life. The group murmured a bit, till Ashleigh blurted out a question.

“Did you and Bryz actually hook up for New Years? And what did you do?”

The group was plagued with oohs and ahhs.

“We uh…” Em giggled. “I gave him a BJ, alright?”

“Anything else?” Ashleigh tempted.

“Uhm.” Em bit her lip. “I almost had sex with him.”

“I _knew_ you did.” Ashleigh winked. She was some sort of hot, all-knowing being. _Shit._

“Alrighty. Dan the man!” Chris began. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Danny said confidently.

“Are you and Claude a little gay now?” Jaromir blurted out, leaving behind a stupid tipsy giggle.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Danny replied as the bottle got passed to him. Danny took a sip of vodka and sloshed it between his teeth. “If I like it, I fuck it.”

“Not uh.” Chris laughed.

“I thought you were a bible-thumping homo hater.” Scott said, taking a drag on a new blunt and passing it to Ashleigh.

“Like I said,” Danny repeated, “If I like it, I fuck it.” What was he even saying? God knows. No one will remember him saying that tomorrow, so who cares?

“Claude’s turn!”

“Truth or dare, rookie?” Chris asked ominously.

A pause came across the group, all patiently waiting on Claude’s answer.

“Fuck it, dare.”

The group cheered. Everyone huddled in groups of two or three, whispering back and forth, deciding Claude’s fate. Claude couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. He pushed his glasses back up on his face (he took his contacts out after rehearsal), and gazed at the entire group.

“I dare you to go blindfolded and you gotta fondle a couple of us and figure out who we are.” Chris commanded, watching Claude groan, remove his glasses, and tug his shirt off. He fixed the shirt into a blindfold and stood up, putting out his hands for his first victim.

The first one to step up was Ashleigh’s sophomore friend, Marie, who was high as a kite. She let Claude fondle her chest and hips, before he began drunkingly blurting out random girl names. Eventually, he figured it out from the intense giggle fit she broke into.

The second victim was Simon, who was giving Claude kissy faces the entire time. Claude prodded at Simon’s abs, and eventually cupped Simon’s crotch, to which Claude declared, _“This can’t be Simon, the dick’s too big.”_ And Simon punched Claude in the arm.

The third victim somehow ended up being Danny, who was double dog dared to take his shirt off by Jaromir.

Danny stepped up to Claude, who went for the hair. Claude pushed his hands through Danny’s thick, black hair, and his hand drooped down to make circles on Danny’s neck. It was a sick kind of intimate, aside from the fact that Danny kept flexing his pathetic peck muscles. Claude put his hands on Danny’s chest and announced, “This bitch has soft fucking skin, and rockin’ pecks.” Claude put his hands on Danny’s waist, and made a kissy face at Danny, to which Danny wiggled his tongue at Claude.

“Obviously this is Daniel, or else he’d have manly skin.”

“Hey, fuck you.” Danny replied as Claude pulled his blindfold off.

“I thought you weren’t a _faggot_.” Claude jested.

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah, bitch!” Claude snapped his shirt at Danny. “Noodles are hot till they get straight! Hah, _hah!_ Fuck you!”

_“I think you did that wrong.”_

“Fuck you, I’m fucking perfect.” And with that, Claude plopped down onto his tree stump.

The rest of the night was pretty boring to Danny. Usually Monday night get-togethers were much more entertaining. Maybe it was because it was band camp and they ran out of booze and shitty weed in a span of an hour.

Danny eventually carried Claude back to the cabin like he was his new bride. Claude was such a light weight; he barely had three sips of booze and only one drag from a blunt. When they neared the cabin, Danny popped in a breath mint (just in case a chaperone was up) and placed Claude on his feet, hoping Claude would be able to walk back to his bed.

Much to Danny’s luck, the chaperone wasn’t in the cabin, and the floor was clear for Claude. Danny led Claude to his bed and helped Claude lay down without hurting himself. Claude immediately balled up his blankie and cuddled with it, forgetting that he was wearing glasses. Danny removed the kid’s glasses and put them on his pile of stuff by his bed. Danny patted Claude’s head, and went to get into bed himself.

“Danny?” Claude whispered.

“Yeah, Claude?”

“Can I get a kissy before bed?”

“You’re such a lightweight, and _no_.” Danny snapped.

“Please?” Claude whimpered, causing a few people to stir.

“ _Shit._ Fine. What the fuck ever.” Danny said, crouching down to kiss Claude’s forehead. Claude kept moving around in his bed and giggling, just to piss Danny off.

“Claude, hold still.”

“I’m trying to help, I swear!” Claude hissed.

“How?” Danny replied.

“I’m moving my face so you can kiss me better. Hold still.”

Claude moved his head in a variety of patterns, most of which was flopping his hair into Danny’s face.

“Hurry up, dude.”

Claude hit Danny’s chin hard, causing Danny to reel back in pain. Claude giggled and apologized, and fondled the air for Danny’s face, grabbing his cheeks tightly, and planting a kiss square on Danny’s lips.

“Claude, th’fuck, no.” Danny growled, smacking away Claude’s hands.

“I can’t _see_.” Claude murmured as he rolled over to fall asleep.

“Fuck you, dude.” Danny replied, climbing into his bunk.

Danny checked his watch. It was easily one in the morning now, but somehow it was only twelve twenty-eight. Danny pressed his face into his pillow, squishing the scent of vodka and pot into the fabric. Danny laid completely still for a moment, letting his buzz silence the room and his thoughts for a split moment. But the buzz lifted and he found himself thinking about life, like he always does when he drinks or smokes. Danny could never figure out why he drank or smoked, he felt like he sinned every time he did. Danny just blamed his sinning on some other being, and that night was the first time he blamed it on himself.


End file.
